Rubbed Dry
This is DarkFlame's short story. I twisted the handle of my lance, the light from the sun reflecting off the shining, silver tip. My armor felt as heavy as ever, putting pressure on all of my muscles. I raised my arm, lance in talon, and crashed it down upon the head of my foe. I heard a sickening crack, then a snap, and then my opponent sank to the ground, knees falling, then his broken head colliding with the blood stained ground. I took a step back and dropped my lance. I crouched down, my knees touching the ground, raising a talon out to the dead figure in front of me. I turned his head, the remains of his head covered in blood. He was smiling. Not a wicked smile, but a happy smile. A smile of pleasure. I covered my mouth with my palm. “Brother…?” I wondered aloud. I took a few steps back. “N-no…” I hissed, and bashed a fist against the ground. “NOO!” I screamed, and then sank lower to the ground. I closed my eyes, as tight as they would let me. All of a sudden, I heard a low moan next to me. I opened one eye to see the once-thought-dead figure. He was trying to speak. "Ere...s.." He murmered, and tried to inch closer. I stopped him. "Yes?" I whispered, trying not to pain my brother any more. I moved my ear closer to his mouth, helping me hear what he had to say. My brother let out a puff of air. "You... need... to... to... overthrow... the king..." He whispered, before life left his eyes for good. I sat back on my haunches, very confused. "Dragon Tribes have queens." I pondered, each second of thought making me even more confused then I already was. "King..? Since when..." I hissed, and then slipped my talons under the body of my brother. I walked, slowly, over to a favorite spot of ours. The pond. Memories flooded my brain, and I thought back to when we used to play by the pond. Before the war. Before everything went crazy. The Great War of the Tribes had begun, and siblings were split, for two sides; The ArrowLances and The Pacific Wanderers. I pushed these horrible war thoughts from my mind. I didn't want to think of that while burying my brother. I finally arrived at the spot; a beautiful spot by the pond. I layed him down gently, digging up a hole in the ground, about the size of him. I lifted him up and into the hole, noticing his katana on his side. I picked it up. It still shone like new, even though my brother hated fighting. A tear streamed down my cheek. He was forced into this war, and now he'd dead because of me. I decided not to put the katana in the ground with him; He hated it, and I wouldn't be heartless enough to give it to him in his next life. I shoved the katana alongside my lance and filled the dirt in, then finding a suitable stone to engrave his name in. I took a shard of rock and began to engrave it. Nobody. I dropped the rock after writing the last word. Nobody wasn't my real brother, but after his parents abandoned him, I took him under my wing for the time being. He was never much of a fighter or a talker, but out on the outskirts, you needed to be tough. No matter how many times I tried to get him to adjust, he stayed his same, wimpy self. I sighed. I would never see him again. I got up, my head lowered, and walked slowly away, walking away from his brother, and his life. Category:Fanfictions Category:Fanfictions (Completed) Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)